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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others might carry their stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of tension that even his foam roller at home could not exercise. He hated their question nearly as much as the phrase that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you prefer a female or a man? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he chose a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a female, did it indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who anticipated a pleased ending?
No choice, is what he typically said. In some cases, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he hit the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his odd action over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't hide the fact that she kept herself fit. Her eyes were almond-shaped, her hair black, and her skin the colour of caramel. I'm Ally. I'll be your therapist today, she said.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his individual health seemed to be good and that he had good skin, she was grateful. And when she shook his strong hand and looked into his baby blue eyes, butterflies fluttered in her chest and the hair based on the back of her neck. Ally led Alan to Room 5. She asked him to undress and lay face-down on the table. She left the space, giving him personal privacy to disrobe and crawl under the sheet. With his head in the massage table's cradle, his eyes closed, Alan's world slipped away into darkness. Alan enjoyed this element of the massage; his other senses almost vanish, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its feelings. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat much faster. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make certain. The fragrance was moderate and sweet. Ally stood near the table, dimming the lights, rubbing oil into her hands. Alan could feel her heat on him. Enshrouded in his dark, lightless world, he envisioned her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not imagine but assist Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming satisfaction that directly opposed the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she discovered she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was simply him and it was more appealing than anything Alan might have ever stated. Alan heard it. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Getting rid of a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she drew in her mind. Alan attempted to envision a more total picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided off offered a crude type of sonar in his pitch-black world.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck, he imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. And so it went this way for half an hour. It was time for her to massage his chest, arms, and quadriceps. Scoot down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She raised the sheet to make it easier for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan saw it at the same time. Alan was fully put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to make out Ally's response. He didn't know what to say. Then, he heard her leave, to the corner of the space. He became aware of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a client's groin in scenarios like these. Possibly that's what she will do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's dick grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been appalled, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. However at this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their method from her chest to the location below her navel. She desired Alan. She found that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last half an hour had been ample preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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